


Her Way In The Dark

by TheSeventhWave (ArsitRouke)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:25:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArsitRouke/pseuds/TheSeventhWave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things in the darkness worse than thieves and whores. Things with not respect for life, or the law... A series of brutal murders are being committed in Paris, and Javert will try to find the culprit with the aid of his new assistant, Drout Galteaux, a young man with many secrets who is not who he claims to be. And Éponine is at Cosette's door with a message from Marius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Eponine wants to hate Cosette. Before going to talk to her, she thought that it was inevitable; after all, she is going to keep the man that Eponine loves away from her, because Marius is obviously infatuated with the blonde beauty. And when they meet, Cosette is going to love him too, of course. Who wouldn't love such a man?

And it would make everything so much easier. More simple. But Eponine soon realizes that she can't hate Cosette. When she knocks on the door she intends to deliver Marius message and go away quickly, but when Cosette opens the door she seems surprised, but smiles warmly at her and invites her to come in. Not knowing how to decline politely, Eponine does, and looking at the interior of this house, she feels very self-concious. It's not a luxurious house, not at all, but it's much more elegant that the places that she frequents, and even if Cosette doesn't seems to mind about the dirt that stains Eponine clothes and skin, she does, and it makes her feel ashamed, a feeling that she tries to hide keeping her head high and proud.

Cosettes makes tea for the two of them and seems genuinely happy to have her there. She remembers Eponine from their childhood, she says, and this frankly surprises Eponine. Then why is she being so kind? They weren't exactly the best of friends.

Cosette talks to her about trivial things while they drink the tea (and it's one of the best Eponine has ever had, real tea and not the dirty water that they drink at her house) and Eponine realizes how alone Cosette must be. Apparently she has no friends, no one in his life but her father. No, Eponine can't hate this gentle and lonely girl.

"Before, you said you had a message for me" Says Cosette. They are seated side by side in a really confortable green velvet couch, with a small table in front of it, where the teapot and their cups are.

"I have a friend. His name is Marius Pontmerci" Eponine finds difficult to talk. But this is why she came here, right? If she really loves Marius she should do whatever makes him happy. "He's interested in meeting you"

Eponine notes how Cosette looks at the floor and blushes.

"He's a gentleman and his intentions are good, you have nothing to worry about. He just wants to... talk to you" She tries to reassure Cosette, because she has to make her agree to meet Marius. She promissed him she would.

Cosette smiles nerviously and Eponine has to admit that it's adorable. It hurts her because Cosette is all that Eponine isn't and will never be: Delicate, beautiful, with the fairest skin, blue eyes and golden hair. And if that's what Marius loves, that means he could never love Eponine.

"I think I can do that" Says Cosette, shyly. Eponine smiles at her, even if she feels like dying.

* * *

Javert is still looking for Valjean, but lately he has a lot of work to do and it's proving difficult to find the time for it. There have been a series of murders in the city, almost a dozen, murders of beggars and whores and other scum that he does not pity at all, but still the murderer is breaking the law and he has to find him. He is investigating every killing but the only thing the victims have in common, apart from being poor, is the deplorable state in which they have found their corpses. All of them where ripped apart, highly mutilated. Javert finds it disconcerting and yes, even interesting, but other police officers prove to be less impervious to the carnage and instead find it was too much too handle. In two weeks, he has had four assistants for this case and all of then had begged their superiors to assign them to other matters after seeing their first body. So when they introduce him to his new assistant that morning, he know he is not going to be around much time. His name is Druot Galteaux. He's young, and looks even younger, more like a boy than a man. Actually he's quite effeminate, with his long legs and slim body, but almost as tall as Javert. The features of his face are soft and almost delicate, with forest green eyes that stand out against his pale skin. He wears an uniform that's slighly too big for him and most of his hair is covered by his hat, but a couple of golden locks scape from it to rest against his forehead. He is smiling politely at him, and Javert just looks at him with a serious, inexpressive gaze.

He thinks this man is weak. They tell him Drout is a police officer recently transfered from the office of Lyon so he can earn some experience in the capital, and hearing that, Javert is certain that Drout won't last long in Paris. He'll be begging to let him go back to his own city soon enough. Until then, however, Javert has to take Drout with him in his patrolling of the city's streets.

"It's an honor having the oportunity to work with a man like you, Monsieur, a truly example for all agents of the law" Drout says, and if his voice wasn't so plain and sincere Javert would suspect that he means something else altogether. Maybe he is trying to win his favor by praising him? Then his efforts are in vain. It does not impress him.

"I am only doing my job. And I expect you to do the same thing, officer Galteaux" He said, starting to walk. After one brief moment of confusion Drout follows him, taking long steps to position himself next to him. Javert walks with determination, looking ahead, while Drout's eyes are everywhere; on the street, the people they pass by and step aside not to cross the feared inspector's way, the sky, his feet, and of course, every few minutes, he stares at Javert, thoughtful.

"Where are we going?"

"I take it you already know about the murders?"

"Of course" Drout says instantly, as he's offended by Javert impliying he has not done his research before taking his new position.

"The most recent one was commited yesterday. We will visit the scene of the crime"

Drout only nods, and they don't talk again until they arrive there. Javert apreciates the silence, because he can't stand mindless small talk. When they walk into the narrow alley where the body of the last victim still lays, he does not look at it, because he has already seen it. Instead, he watches the reaction of his assistant, expecting him to let out a cry or even throw up the contents of his stomach, but when the others did that and more, Drout Galteaux is calm, but angry.

"I'll find whoever did this" He finally says, in a whisper.

Javert can't help to be a little impressed by this.


	2. Chapter 2

When Eponine leaves, and Cosette finds herself alone in the house again, she starts looking for something to do that can help her calm down the quick rhythm of her heart. She tries to do some embroldery, as she usually does to keep herself entertained while Valjean is at work, but she's too nervous and her delicate hands tremble too much to do it right, so after a few minutes doing a pitiful job with the needle on her latest project, that she will later have to undo, she puts it down and starts brushing her long hair in front of a mirrow instead. But this soon proves to be a mistake, because while doing such a mindless talk she can only focus on her own thoughts. And, of course, right now she can only think about what Eponine told her. About Marius Pontmercy and how she has promised to meet him that night, when he comes to her garden once Valjean is asleep. Her father will not let her meet Marius if he finds out, she knows that, so she'll have to hide that from him... It's a weird sensation, and one not very pleasant, because even if Valjean refuses to talk about his past, Cosette has never kept any secrets from him. Until now.

This makes her feel unsure about the whole thing. Yes, she's terribly curious, and Eponine has assured her that Marius is a trustworthy individual, but... what kind of woman would agree to meet an unknown man in the dark of the night?

So for the next hours, Cosette changes her mind a thousand times.

Of course she's not going; it’s too dangerous, it would be improper of a young lady. What was she thinking about when she agreed? She just feels so lonely sometimes and surely it has affected her judgement.

But ten minutes later she is convinced that she has to go. She can't just stay inside and leave him cold and alone in her own garden. She can't disappoint Eponine, who she would really like to consider her friend. Then she'll try to choose a dress and panic because she won't be able to do it. Then she'll be looking out of the window wishing the night would come faster. When Valjean returns home she tries to look composed and normal, hoping that he won't notice how agitated she really feels, but this man knows her better than anyone else in the world and while they are having dinner, he looks at her with a heavy worry in his eyes.

"Dear child, what troubles your mind?"

Cosette keeps her own eyes in her plate, because if she looked at him he would be able to read the truth on them, and shocks her head slightly, the bright light of the candles making her overly brushed hair shine.

"I am tired, that's all" She thinks about mentioning Eponine's visit, but then she'll have to explain the reason behind it too, and anyway Valjean doesn't like it when Cosette talks about things of the past, especially about the Thénardiers. She understands, because usually she doesn't like thinking about them either. So she does not say anything else and tries to eat some more, even if she's not hungry at all.

"Are you sure? Cosette... You know that if you have a problem of any type you can always tell me about it, don't you?"

"I know, papa" And she finally looks at him now, with a soft smile, feeling more calm after hearing his kind words. She's reminded of how much she loves this good man and that makes her feel a little more guilty about lying to him, having a sudden urge to confess her real intentions for that night. But just as quickly he smiles, looking pleased with that answer, and the moment is gone.

It's not really all that important, is it? It's not like she's even going out of their property. If something happens she'll scream to wake Valjean up and he'll come in her aid that same instant. It's safe and inoffensive. Eponine said Marius only wanted to talk to her.

Valjean looks happy today. She doesn't want to ruin his night with such unimportant matters.

* * *

Javert admits that Drout Galteaux has affronted this rather horrifying crime scene like a real man of the law would, but still he dislikes the young boy. He's making too many questions and some of them are quite strange. Why would he want to know if they have found any organic matter that does not correspond to the body? What does that even mean? The corpse of the victim, an old, small woman, is bloody and broken and both arms are fully separated from the chest, torn apart brutally, but it is clear that the remains belong to a single person and no to various victims, if that's what his trying to determine. Maybe the methods of investigation are different in Lyon. If that's the case, Javert disapproves of them.

After obtaining all the information that the scene of the crime can possibly offer, they return to the office where Javert shows Drout a map where they have marked the locations in which they have found the bodies. Javert has already looked at that map for hours, trying to find a pattern where apparently there's only chaos, but Drout studies it like he can discover something that Javert has not. What pretentiousness. Officer Galteaux eyes stop briefly over some streets without any signal on them, while he draws an invisible line from one mark to another with his surprisingly long and agile fingers. Not that Javert notices that, of course not.

"This two are really close from each other. Were the victims related in any way?" And even if Drout talks with a pretty neutral tone of voice, Javert find it almost disrespectful, like the boy is too immersed in his own thoughts to acknowledge the superiority of who he's talking to.

"They were not. That one was a whore and the other one was a drunk man who had no money to pay for such depravity after he drank every sou he unlawfully earned" Javert explained, his professional voice tinted with the disgust those kinds of people always cause on him.

"Hum. All of them were poor people, from the streets, isn't it?" Drout asks, and it doesn't sound like a terrible insult like it would have if Javert was the one saying those words.

"That is correct"

"Well, that has to mean something. Do you have any ideas, Monsieur?"

But Javert doesn't. He cannot imagine why someone would target exclusively street rats like those; For him, they are scum that belongs in jail but having the desire to kill them would be giving them too much importance, that they don't deserve. The murderer can't possibly get any benefits for targeting them in particular either. The conclusion is clear.

"I do not think it has any meaning at all, Officer Galteaux. I think we have a madman in our hands, a demented criminal that's butchering his own kind, choosing his victims randomly, without any sane reason whatsoever" He says, like it is obvious and Drout is too stupid to realize it. "Why should it have a hidden meaning?"

"I do not know, Monsieur, I guess you are right" And in the silence that follows his words, Drout Galteaux stares at Javert with an expression that the inspector can't quite understand. It's not exactly the admiration that he could expect, and it almost resembles surprise. They are at opposites sides of the table where the big map is unfolded, and Drout puts both of his hands on top of it, body resting against the table, so they are closer and Javert can hear him talk in a low voice. "That's an interesting theory from a equally interesting man"

If this audacious sentence affects Javert in any way, he does not show it. His face is still proud, indifferent, but when he talks, his voice is gravelly and harsh.

"You are overstepping, Officer Galteaux. I have no desire to know of your judgement about my person. From now on, you will only share your thoughts about the case and you will keep your impertinent remarks to yourself. Am I clear?"

"Of course, Monsieur. I apologize" But Drout doesn't look like he regrets it, doesn't look embarrassed at all, like Javert would expect him to be. Instead he continues like nothing has ever happened and centers his attention on some notes describing the different crime scenes. This is starting to bother Javert, being wrong when predicting the way his assistant will react. He's used to be able to trust his judgement of people. Why is this man any different? It's his first day at the job and he's too confident, too calm. He's mostly correct in his ways but not overly respectful like the others were with him. Drout Galteaux doesn't seem to be intimidated by him either, like people usually are in presence of the inspector.

Javert does not like it. He knows that all of that is probably caused because he does not have that much of a reputation in Lyon, not compared with the one he has on Paris, where everyone fears and yes, respects him, but still... He doesn't like it.

He can't wait until Drout Galteaux is replaced too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it's a little longer than the first one. Please, review and tell me what you think! I'd love to have some constructive criticism.


	3. Chapter 3

When almost two weeks later officer Drout Galteaux is still there, and doing an acceptable job even, Javert has to admit that maybe he is not as weak as he first thought judging only his looks, and maybe he will be around for a while longer than he expected Drout to be able to endure. That does not mean that he has stopped disliking the man, thought.

There has been another murder. This time the victim is a young girl, probably fifteen or sixteen years old. They don't know her name or anything about who she was, really, because they haven't found anyone who knows her. Apparently she doesn't live in the quartier where they have found her body, which is something that hasn't happened with any of the others. Until now, all of the victims have been attacked at night, when they returned to their houses or when they slept in the street, if they didn't have one. That's the first unusual thing about it. The second one is how the killer has left the body almost intact. Unlike the others, this one only has a profound, irregular stab wound in the chest. And somehow, it almost makes it worse. A highly mutilated body is only a thing, flesh and blood, and it's difficult to feel connected to that. But this is a  _person…_  Not only that's, it's a child. Maybe that's why it's the first victim that makes Drout show some kind of emotion.

When he first sees the dead body, he's taken aback by it and stops walking, not suddenly, but taking a few more steps, each one slower and more insecure. Then he closes his eyes for a moment to compose himself, and it is now, when Drout can't see him, that Javert looks directly at him. The officer has behaved very professionally in these two weeks, except for some occasional confusing statements that the inspector ignores, so it's easy for him to forget how young Drout really is. Too young indeed to be used to face this type of crimes, like Javert is, and it must affect him more than he allows himself to show.

But instead of feeling compassion for him, Javert finds himself annoyed by this display of weakness. Drout Galteaux might be the best assistant he's had for this case but that doesn't mean he's good enough to satisfy him. He always has preferred working alone. Javert understands why he needs an assistant to resolve such an important and complicated case; No policeman could manage this single-handled, but he tried and he's still disappointed at himself for failing. Now tolerating the constant presence of his assistants is his way to punish himself for this failure.

Drout does not stay like this for too long, thought, and in mere seconds he's calm again, not as inexpressive as the inspector but detached enough from the scene to examine it with a clear head. He walks towards the body and crouches down to observe it closely, critically, searching for evidence or something that can help them to find out the identity of the monster who did this.

"Are we sure this is the work of the same criminal?" Drout says after a few minutes of intense concentration, looking up to gaze at Javert, resting his arm on his knee.

Javert stands with his hands at his back, his posture proud and stiff, eyes cold.

"What do you mean, officer? Do you think there are two different murderers roaming freely my streets?" He talks as he finds insulting that Drout suggests he would allow such a thing. The young officer does not hear his tone or doesn't care, not reacting to it in any way or changing his own voice when responding to him.

"I don't know, inspector." but even if Drout's voice doesn't change in the slightest, Javert senses again that subtle disrespect in the deliberate way in which he pronounces that last word. But it's so hidden and elusive that Javert knows it might be all in his mind. Who could be that good of an actor? "It is only that this particular crime does not fit the pattern created by the others, that's all."

"That could mean any number of things."

"Really? Would you be so kind as to give me some examples?"

And now Javert is sure that his subordinate is being discourteous, but he decides to humour his question to prove that he is right.

"Someone could have discovered him after he killed the girl but before he had the opportunity to mutilate her corpse like he did with the others. So he fled leaving her like this."

"Then why we haven't been able to find a single witness?"

"Officer Galteaux." Javert says, using again that voice he reserves for expressing exasperation caused by the extreme ignorance of his assistant "This is not a respectable quartier. These are filthy streets, inhabited by scum, criminals who don't know other way but that of lies. They won't tell us the truth, even if they had some kind of information, simply because we are officers of the Law. Moreover, this girl didn't live here nor was she on of them, so they don't have any interest in the punishment of the killer. Maybe things are different in your little Lyon, but now you're in Paris, officer. You should remember that."

Drout is silent for a moment, and then he nods in agreement.

"I see. I accept the plausibility of that theory, then. What else could have happened?"

Javert grunts in discontent.

"I refuse to continue with this absurd questioning of yours. Look at her. Any policeman with half a brain would see clearly why she's been killed by the same murderer. You say that she does not fit the pattern, but the only thing it lacks it's the atrocious carnage that you were expecting. All of the victims had still their personal belongings, so they weren't killed for a robbery, nor had the female ones been used in a lustful manner, so they were not killings resulting of the satisfaction of his urges. This leads us to a single possible conclusion; the murderer killed these people for the act of killing itself. That's why he chooses poor, unimportant persons that no one would miss."

Javert watches with a satisfied sneer how Drout seems genuinely impressed by this deduction.

"That makes so much sense." Drout gets up, passing his hands over his trousers to rid the fabric of the dust of the cobblestone floor "Can we go back to the office now? I'd like to revise some of the evidence with this new information in mind."

The inspector does not answer but starts walking without turning around to check if his assistant is following him. Drout Galteaux takes advantage of this moment where he's not being watched to bend over and close the dead girl's eyes, then brush a lock of brown hair out of her forehead with a gentle caress. While doing this his face is serious, his eyes bright with something that could be sadness, anger, or both. But just as quickly as it appears, this emotion is gone, and he walks with fast step to occupy the place at the left of the inspector.

In their way back to the police station, they walk through a market and arrest a thief. Both of the policemen ignore his pleas for mercy, and they take him with them. While Javert is filling the form for the thief's report, Drout Galteaux marks the location of the last victim on the map, now permanently on display on one of the walls, and looks at the evidence again, thinking, taking notes with his cryptic calligraphy.

Soon the workday is over and the policemen start to exit the place. Some of them will go to a tavern to drink and talk, and on occasion they've asked Javert to go with them, but he always declines their offer coldly. In general the group is too young and he would not enjoy their company. Not to mention that he finds this behaviour completely inappropriate for men of the law like them. He knows that they want him to say no, too. They may respect and fear him, but it's no secret that they don't like him.

Drout never goes with them either, despite being of their same age, and Javert wonders why until he realizes that Drout Galteaux is also disliked by most of the police force too. They laugh at him because of this stoical expression and lady-like appearance, sometimes behind his back, sometimes openly. Drout doesn't confront them, and doesn't seem to care. And they don't talk about it, but Javert knows his colleagues are uncomfortably surprised by Drout's capacity of working for so long in a case that they found too disturbing to handle.

That's why usually the two of them are the last ones left in the building, working until late, mostly in silence. Drout still makes an attempt to have friendly conversation on occasion, but knows when to stop trying when Javert either ignores him or gives him a sharp word of warning, and considering his previous assistants (some of them only were silent all the time out of fear, and others were so nervous that they couldn't stop talking) Drout isn't talkative at all. Javert prefers it this way. So when they think they are finished for the day, the two policemen exit the commissariat together and share some brief words off goodbye before taking opposite directions to go back to their respective homes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you like this story, if you'd like to keep reading please let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

This is it. The most important moment of his life. This night, Marius will meet the love of his life, and everything thanks to the intervention of his friend Éponine. He asks her to go with him, to give him support and show him the way, but she refuses saying that she's got many things to do that night and only gives him the direction of Cosette's house and some tips to approach the garden without being seen.

So when the sun sets he leaves his rented room alone, happiness and anticipation shaking each fiber of his body. He can't wait to see again the angel that captured his heart with a single peep of her heavenly blue eyes. She's literally the only thing he can think about since then. Éponine teases him friendly for it and his friends at le Café Musain start to suspect that something strange happens to him. Of course, he would say that they're right. Is there something more extraordinary that falling in love? And doing it so fast? For Marius, this is a sign that they are meant to be together.

He can only hope his love feels the same way.

Marius walks with light feet, finding hard to control himself and don't burst into song spontaneously. Usually he would be wary and careful while walking the streets of the city at night, but today he can't believe there's anything dark or wrong in the world. Marius' eyes observe Paris through the light of his love and he can see nothing but beauty. When he finally arrives to the backyard of Cosette's home, he believes it to be the garden of Eden itself.

He doesn't have to wait for too long, but the ten minutes that his love takes to exit her house are like ten hours for him. When he finally sees her, Marius holds his breath in awe. She's wearing a simple white night gown and her golden hair is neatly braided. Marius finds her absolutely adorable, the slight blush on her cheeks delightful. In a moment, he forgets everything he has planned to say and takes a deep breath, staring at her.

"Good night, monsieur." Cosette says, with a small and sweet laugh.

Marius, feeling his face burn, knows he's making a fool of himself, and clears his throat in an attempt to calm himself.

"Good night, mademoiselle Cosette." He murmurs his voice low so she's the only one able to hear it. To this propose they are very close, only the bars that separate her garden from the street he's in standing between them "Thank you for accepting to see me tonight."

"It seems like we have a mutual friend who convinced me of doing so." She answers, and Marius tries to hide his surprise when he hears that his love considers Éponine a friend too. He thinks Éponine knows who his love is and has ways to contact her, but no that they are friends "Was she also the one who gave you my name, monsieur?"

"She was." He confirmed with a small nod " Didn't she give you mine?"

"She probably did, but I'm a forgetful person sometimes. Maybe you could be so kind as to give it to me again?" Marius doesn't know, but this is a lie. Cosette remembers perfectly, and has said his name a dozen times before that afternoon, alone in her room, pleased with its sound, but she wanted to hear him pronouncing it.

"My name is Marius Pontmercy." He says, with a nervous smile. He knows staring so fixedly as he's doing is a rude thing to do, but he can't take his eyes off her beautiful face, and he can't find anything to say either. Fortunately, she talks again before the silence gets too uncomfortable.

"And what's that you wanted to talk to me about so badly, monsieur Marius? I'm listening"

Here it is, he thinks, his change to confess his feelings to her beloved.

"Dear Cosette…" He starts, but doubts when she lets a small gasp of surprise escape from her lips because of the excessively familiar treatment" Cosette… I am very much in love with you, since the moment when I first saw you walking with your father. I've been thinking about you all day and all night. I don't sleep, I don't desire to eat. I am lost without you. What I want to say it's that my heart is yours, if you accept it."

There is a profound silence in the world when he stops talking. Marius looks at her hopefully, his heart beating like thunder in her chest.

At first Cosette seems to be frozen, then she reacts looking away shyly, her cheeks tinted with an intense red shade.

"Please, monsieur…" She whispers "Do you think it's proper to say such things to a young lady? Éponine assured me that you were a gentleman."

"I am, I…" He exclaims, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, too ashamed to remember to lower his voice like he should, and before he can add another word they hear Valjean's strong voice coming from inside the house.

"There's someone there? Cosette, are you outside?"

Cosette looks towards the house with a combination of guilt and surprise, and then turns to face Marius again.

"You should leave, monsieur Marius"

"Wait, please—"

"Go away! My father can't see you here"

Ignoring his whispered supplications for her to stay, Cosette hurries to go back inside, leaving Marius hiding in a dark corner. He starts to miss her fiercely the very same moment she's out of his sight.

* * *

Éponine has lied to Marius. In reality she has nothing to do that night, it was only an excuse not to go with him and show his friend the way to Cosette's house; she knows seen them together would hurt her too much. She can barely tolerate the thought.

Éponine feels her heart heavy with sadness inside her chest while walking the streets. She has no particular destination in mind, she only wants to get away from everything. But it's impossible, and she can't even enjoy the temporary relief of imagining Marius besides her like she usually does because the fact that he's with Cosette is the only thing she can think about and she finds herself unable to pretend otherwise.

It's cold out here, and Éponine starts to shiver, but she can't return home just yet. If Marius is there, he'll want to tell her how his encounter with Cosette has been, and if he's not there, she'll know they are still together. So she keeps walking. She'll go back once she's sure everyone's asleep.

Suddenly, while walking across the rue Saint-Denis, Éponine hears a strange sound coming from an adjacent alley completely covered in darkness, and then something that dangerously resembles a forcibly interrupted scream.

She freezes in place for a moment, enough for something hidden deep in the alley to return her stare, with eyes bright, yellow and full of animal-like fury.

Éponine starts running, wings of absolute terror making her feet lightning quick. She runs until her lungs hurt and she cannot breathe anymore, looking back to see there's nothing behind her but an empty street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading this story! Please leave a review if you would like to keep reading, I'd love to hear what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lately I've been having a lot of E/R feelings, so I just had to write a chapter with Grantaire and Enjolras, even I wasn't planning to have them in this story... Oh well. If you don't like the pairing, I'm sorry! I promise tomorrow I'll publish a new chapter about the others.

The next morning the sun rises early, covering the streets with its gentle light. Éponine and Marius sleep is the same building, only separated by strong walls; He dreams of Cosette, alone in his bed, while Éponine shares hers with her little brother, Gavroche. In a higher-class part of the city, Cosette sleeps peacefully and without dreams, but Valjean lies awake, worried about the possibility that Javert has found his covert at last. Oblivious to this, the inspector is putting on his uniform, preparing himself for another day of work. In his own home, Drout Galteaux is doing the same, but this time not because he has gotten up with the sunrise, as he usually does: He hasn't sleep in the whole night, and he has come home only half an hour ago.

In le café Musain there's no one but Grantaire, drinking a cup of hot, black coffee by himself. Like it happens with all drunks, his sleep schedule is completely messed up if not directly destroyed, so he's used to be awake when all the others are sleeping and vice versa. When this happens, he likes to come here. Nowadays only the revolutionaries use the place, so it's always open. And Grantaire likes it, maybe even more than he likes his favourite tavern, because here is where he passes the time with his friends, talking about revolutions, about the future (a future that he doesn't quite believe in, but works towards anyway), laughing, drinking (well, that's usually mostly him) and, of course, arguing. He can't count the times Enjolras and Marius have organized full-blown debates over minor disagreements, ideological or not. Most of those political questions bore him to death, but it's always fun to watch. They never change each other minds, and it all usually ends when Combeferre calms them down and changes the subject skilfully to something they all can agree on. It's a pity, because Grantaire thoroughly enjoys watching Enjolras talking so passionately about something.

Speaking of the devil, Enjolras chooses that same moment to open the door and enter the room, stopping for a moment when he sees his friend sitting in one of the tables besides the window.

"Grantaire?" He says, sounding a little surprised.

"Hey! I was just thinking about you" Grantaire smiles a little crooked smile, looking up to see the blond man.

"Are you drunk again?" Enjolras walks towards Grantaire's table, frowning. He talks with a serious tone, like he already knows the answer to that question and it does not please him.

"Good lord, always with that. I'll let you know that I'm perfectly sober, thanks. I'm only taking coffee."

"Sure."

But even if Enjolras has reasons for his scepticism concerning this matter, it is completely true; Grantaire hasn't been awake long enough to start drinking yet.

"It's true, Enjolras. I'll bring you some." Grantaire stands up to go get him a cup of coffee too, but Enjolras puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him down so Grantaire is sitting again, then takes another chair for himself and sits beside his friend, his back facing the window.

"That won't be necessary. I had some before coming here, I expected the place to be empty. I... I haven't sleep much tonight."

Upon hearing this, Grantaire tries not to look worried and fails miserably.

"Why? What's the matter?"

Enjolras is not looking at him, his gaze lost instead in distant contemplation. For a moment it feels like he's going to confess something, but then he sighs and shakes his head, making the moment go away.

"Nothing. I just have too much on my mind."

For anyone else, this would not mean much, but Grantaire knows Enjolras better than anyone else, and these words tell him everything he needs to know. He can see what he's thinking, clear as day.

"You are worried about our plans, about the revolution. I understand."

"You do?" Enjolras asks, with a dark, bitter chuckle "You who have not worried about anything a single day of your life?"

"Yes, I do." Grantaire says this very matter-of-factly, and then his voice lowers a bit "You know I worry about you."

They share an intense look, longer than any two other men would be comfortable with, and then Enjolras directs his eyes to the ceiling above them, resting his arms on the table.

"I guess you're right." He says, without lowering his gaze. In any other circumstance Grantaire would be ecstatic to hear his friend admitting that, and it would be a source of infinite tease, but not now. Knowing that Enjolras is having a hard time doesn't bring him any joy. "There are rumours that say Lamarque's health is worse each day. He won't last much longer."

"We already knew that."

"Yes. But what if he dies before we have everything ready? There's so much to do, so much to prepare. We need to acquire more weapons and ammunition. We need to plan everything perfectly."

"We'll do all those things."

"The problem is, Can we do them before Lamarque is dead? He's the people's man, and the people will rise in his memory supporting our revolution when he dies, to honour his name. And without the aid of the people, we will be defeated. But what if he dies before we are ready? We have to strike then or never."

Grantaire can see how upset he is while saying this, how much Enjolras' cause troubles his mind. Searching for a way to help him, he leaves the cup aside and turns Enjolras arm with a gentle movement so the back of the hand is facing the table. Enjolras has the sleeves of his white chemise rolled up above the elbows, and Grantaire starts caressing his forearm, brushing his fingertips against the warm flesh, up and down its length. At first, Enjolras tenses against this touch, but then he succumbs to the pleasurable ticklish sensation, closing his eyes and letting his body relax.

Grantaire is honestly surprised that this works, and even more that Enjolras is permitting it. He's used to try to initiate small physical connections between them, always hopeful, little things that Enjolras always rejects. The lack of sleep must be clouding his judgement... whatever it is, Grantaire is incredibly thankful for it. He's also thankful for been up so early and finding Enjolras there while alone, because he's certain that he wouldn't tolerate something like this if it was any other hour of the day or if they was someone else there with them.

"You shouldn't worry so much. Everything is going to be just fine." Grantaire says, with a reassuring, soft voice. Of course he doesn't believe that, but he would say anything to bring some peace to his friend. "Combeferre is planning everything and he's a smart guy. The people will follow you anywhere, anytime, who wouldn't? Everything will be soon ready. France will be free."

Grantaire knows how much Enjolras loves his country, how much he yearns for its freedom. He loves it more than he will ever love Grantaire, he's sure of that, because Enjolras has proclaimed it time and time again. Sometimes, like right now, when his heart beats wildly because of the opportunity of touching the man that he adores so much, sometimes Grantaire wishes he wasn't in such a low place on Enjolras' list of priorities, but he can't fool himself. Still, he can be hopeful.

Grantaire uses his free hand to stroke Enjolras' curly hair, his stare fixed on the man's lips, and he gets closer...

Enjolras opens his eyes before Grantaire has the chance of erasing completely the distance that keeps them apart, and his wide look soon narrows, hardening his expression. He immediately gets up, so quickly his chair almost falls to the floor, and he takes a couple of steps back.

"Grantaire." He says, with an accusatory tone, looking angry and disappointed, his face slightly blushed "I thought we've talked about this already. Multiple times indeed. Have you no shame?"

Grantaire cracks half a smile, managing as always to look calmer that he feels, and shrugs.

"You know I don't"

Enjolras only looks at him once more, shaking his head again, before walking out of the door.

Grantaire feels a sudden and strong urge to have a drink. More like a thousand, but he can only find one bottle of absinthe near. Well, it's a start.

 

* * *

 

The person known as Drout Galteaux looks at the collection of very unusual objects displayed on the table with a concentrated and pensive expression that looks almost out of place on this beautiful and girlish face, trying to decide if it would be wise to take one of the knifes to work today, then takes one with one hand, and looks at it appraisingly. It's a long, old knife, and the sharp blade is made from blackened silver. Its owner has tried to polish it several times, but it's clear that it will never recover its original shine. This knife has drunk too much dirt, too much filth, too much blood. Specially the last one.

Finally, the officer decides to take it, and hides it in one of the boots. Just in case.


	6. Chapter 6

When Éponine finally wakes up, it's because of the dark hunger that constricts her stomach, deep and almost painful. She has not eaten much this week, only a little bread and cheese that Gavroche brought her, and she has eaten only half of it so his brother could give the rest to Azelma later. If she wasn't so hungry, she would sleep the day away. She came home really late yesterday and she's still tired, but the hunger is stronger and makes her get off the bed. She looks around, searching for Gavroche, but the small boy is long gone, probably to play with other street kids or to help the revolutionaries.

Éponine explores her pockets, hoping that she still has some money left. While doing this she remembers the yellow eyes in the dark alley, but now, in the daylight, it sounds absurd. She's convinced it was only her imagination.

Finally she finds a couple of small coins. It isn't much, but it means that she will be able to eat today, and the thought cheers her up. At least until she goes out, starts to walk down the stairs, and finds Marius there.

" 'Ponine!" He says, sounding genuinely happy to find her. Any other day, it would make her grin like a fool, but today it only serves as a reminder of what happened last night and why she came home so late. The little spark of happiness in her eyes disappears completely.

"Monsieur Marius" She tries to sound normal and friendly anyway.  _"It's not his fault."_ She thinks,  _"He doesn't know how he makes me feel."_  And she doesn't want him to find out, so she has to act like everything's alright. "You look so happy. What's the matter?" She already knows, of course, but what else is she going to say? "How was your secret love encounter?" That'd be ridiculous.

"Cosette is wonderful." He bursts, with the widest smile, like he cannot hold it inside him any longer "We didn't have the opportunity to be together much time but it was the best night of my life." And the total security of his voice only serves to hurt Éponine even more. His words feel like daggers in her.

She remembers which one she considers to be the best night of her life. It was almost a year ago. Coming back from one of her walks she had found Marius in the street where their building was. Apparently, he couldn't sleep, and he was bored, so Éponine stayed with him. They talked until the sun rose. And for a few hours, there was no one in the world but them. Together.

But now that feels like it has happened ages ago, or like it is no more than a dream. Clearly for Marius a little while besides his beloved Cosette beats a whole night with Éponine.

She always has known that one of her most treasured memories means very little to Marius, but hearing this confirmation is more painful that she has expected.

"I'm glad to hear that, monsieur." She lies, with a smile. It's a tremendously sad one, but Éponine knows he won't realize that. He never does.

"And everything thanks to you, my friend!" In his excitement, he takes her hands between his and squeezes gently once before letting them go. Éponine has to bite her lip to avoid gasping in surprise, feeling the skin that he has touched burn. When has been the last time they had physical contact? She always tries to avoid even the smallest brushes because it disturbs her too much and it's difficult to hide. Usually she's happy enough with just being in his presence. " 'Ponine, you have done so much for me. I hate to ask even more, but could you take this letter to my beloved Cosette? I'd do it myself but I'm too nervous and I don't want her father to see me or find out about us. And you are her friend."

This petitions puts Éponine in an even darker mood, but that last sentence still manages to surprise her. Why would he think that? She hasn't told him that she is friends with Cosette, only that she knows who she is. Maybe… maybe it is something Cosette said? She truly doesn't know. And she really has no way to deny anything to the man she loves so deeply, so she nods.

"Sure. I'll do it."

"You are the best friend I could ask for, 'Ponine." If only Marius knew how sharp Éponine finds his kind words, how painful. How he could just stab her already and it would hurt her less.

Marius takes a small envelope out of his pocket and gives it to Éponine, accompanied by a five francs silver coin.

"What is this? I don't want your money." She says, surprised and annoyed, trying immediately to give it back to him. He refuses to take it.

"It's not charity, Éponine. It's a way to say thank you in a more quantifiable manner. I could give you all the money in the world and it wouldn't be payment enough for bringing Cosette into my life." He says, like he means every word "Buy something to eat. You're too thin, it's not healthy."

Is that pity what she hears in his voice? Éponine thinks so.

Felling humiliated, she turns around and starts walking down the stairs again, mumbling some words of goodbye. Of course he would only take note of her aspect to notice how unhealthy and ugly she looks. It's a miracle that she manages to hold back her tears.

 

* * *

 

Without even realizing it, Javert and Drout have developed some sort of shared routine. It's not only that they are usually the last ones to left the commissariat at night, but they both also go there really early in the morning and they always meet at the front door at the same time each day. If one of them is a little late, the other will wait there without thinking about it, but in the three weeks they have know each other it has happened only a couple of times. Both policemen are extremely punctual. Today is not exception to the rule, and they arrive almost simultaneously.

"Good morning, Inspector." Drout says in a friendly way. Javert answers with a brief inclination of his head, imperturbable as always. Despite the hour it is, he's completely lucid and alert, and equally laconic too. Drout doesn't seem to care, though, because he tries to converse a little while they are walking the corridors.

"Anything new since yesterday?"

Javert doesn't answer, considering it a stupid question. The only thing he has done since they parted ways yesterday is sleep, so what could have happened? He thinks, with exasperation, that this is only another of the occasional bizarre antics of his assistant. What he doesn't know is that Drout fails to notice this because he himself has been occupied with certain matters that have kept him busy most of the night.

The inspector enters the office that they share, and Drout follows him, closing the door behind himself. When they assigned Javert to this case and they gave him an assistant, they also moved him to a new office. He doesn't mind, because he wasn't attached to his old one, and any place is good to do the work of the Law. This one is bigger, with space for two dark-wooden desks, one in front of the other but separated by almost a meter, and several cabinets to store documents. It also has a fireplace which has not being used for a very long time, since it's springtime, and a little window for ventilation in one of the walls. The map they're using to keep a record of the crime scenes is displayed in another wall, and the two remaining ones are covered with shelves full of law books. The place hasn't much light, so they use various candles to light up the room.

They work for two hours, filling paperwork, before going for their daily patrol of the streets, the next step of their routine. What they do next depends on the events of that particular day; if they arrest someone while on patrol, they return to the police station to throw the criminal into a cell and fill the report. If there has been a new murder or they have found something that could be a clue, they go there to investigate it. But today it is pretty quiet, and there isn't any trouble on the streets, so they return to the office to spend the rest of the day inside, filling out the forms they have accumulated in the last few days.

Drout Galteaux is diligent and industrious, but after several hours working in silence, is obvious that he finds it tedious. It's not Javert's favorite part of the job either, but it needs to be done so it's not worth thinking about it twice. However, Drout is not as disciplined as the inspector, and he attempts to fight off the boredom trying to strike up conversation.

"How is it going?" he asks, casually. "Have you found something interesting in those papers?"

Javert is displeased by the way Drout tries his patience, but ignores it all the same, focusing on the task at hand. This doesn't discourage Drout, though, and he keeps trying to get some sort of reaction out of his superior.

"It's past noon, we should get something to eat soon. Will you join me today, inspector? I know of a quite respectable inn not far from here, it is said that they serve good meals." They allow them one hour each day to go somewhere to eat, but Javert usually takes an apple or something similar with him, a small thing that he can eat while on duty, not to interrupt his work. Drout always offers him to go together, even if the inspector invariably refuses, and then he goes alone, taking only half an hour, sometimes less.

"I appreciate it, but I must refuse, officer." It's the same answer he always gives to his assistant, without bothering to even look at him. This is noticeably not true, because he doesn't appreciate it. If this offer makes him feel something, it's a light confusion. At this point Drout must know what he is going to say, so why does he keep asking him? And why did he ask it in the first place? He can't really desire to have his company while eating, that much is clear. No one  _likes_ his company, they only bear it. The citizens tolerate it because they know Javert keeps them safe, and in the commissariat they do it because he is a hard worker. Maybe he's making fun of him.

"I thought you would say that" He says, calmly. If he thinks of this as a joke, it's a private and elusive one. But now, instead of getting up his chair and going out alone like he usually does, he opens one of the drawers of his desk and takes out a small piece of bread and some cold meat. He then proceeds to eat it, putting his crisp handkerchief on top of his knees and separating the chair from the table so the crumbs don't fall on top of the papers. Javert is taken by surprise by this, but tries not to think about it. Drout can do whatever he wants with his time for lunch.

The officer eats with small, careful bites, looking lost in his own thoughts for a while, but then he looks at the inspector with a questioning gaze.

"Won't you eat with me even here, Inspector Javert?"

Javert looks at him because Drout Galteaux rarely uses his name and it earns his attention.

"I'm not hungry, officer Galteaux. And there's work to do."

"At least you should rest for a while. It can't be healthy to be working each waking moment of the day." He says, tilting his head a little to the left, staring at him with something that could be curiosity. If Javert didn't know any better, he would say that even seems like interest.

"That's for me to decide." He retorts, his voice stern "Be careful, officer. You don't want to overstep yourself once more."

"You are right, I don't. But you can't blame me if I'm curious. We've been working together for weeks now and I know next to nothing about you, monsieur."

Javert is silent for a moment before finding a way to answer this unusual declaration. He can't understand for the life of him why this boy would want to know anything about him.

"We are not working together. You are working for me, you are my subordinate."

"Indubitably, inspector." Drout concedes, easily, using his title to strengthen the argument. "But my point still stands. The only thing we ever talk about is work."

"As it should be."

"And that's where we disagree." Drout looks thoughtful for a moment, like his trying to decide on what he would like to ask first "What do you like to do in your leisure time?"

Until now, Javert was still writing, but all this chatting won't let him concentrate on what he's doing and is obvious that Drout won't stop any time soon, so he lets his fountain pen aside for the time being.

"I'm always on duty. I do not have time for anything else."

"I see." Drout says, understanding, having another question ready the very next second "Do you have family here?"

"No"

Drout either fails to notice the anger contained in this single word or doesn't care, because he keeps asking.

"Were you born in Paris?" It may be a completely innocent question in Drout's eyes, but it causes Javert remember his past and makes his blood boil. He makes an effort to keep his cold and restrained image intact, trying to decide how to respond without giving away any information or making Drout realize the effect this question has in him.

"Were you born in Lyon?" Javert asks back, finally. Drout seems almost shocked by this, like he wasn't expecting him to inquire anything about him in return. He does thinks he's the only one that can ask questions about the other's personal life, doesn't him? Well, Javert will prove him wrong. It's also a good way to keep the focus out of his own past.

"I… wasn't." He says, hesitant.

The inspector can't hold back a little satisfied smirk. At last he has found the way to make his assistant abandon that excessively confident demeanor of his.

"Where are you from, then?"

"I don't want to talk about it." His expression is somber and taciturn. Drout finish his frugal meal quickly, folds his handkerchief in a neat triangle to put it in his pocket, and goes back to his paperwork. Javert watches him as he does all this, half expecting his hands to tremble, but somehow Drout manages to keep himself composed.

The inspector finds this unexpected reluctance to talk mysterious and his reaction intriguing. Above all that, it makes him suspicious. No one understands better than Javert why a man would like to keep his privacy; however, he's sure there's something more going on here. But it makes no sense. What would a boy like Drout have to hide?

Javert realizes for the first time how little he really knows about his assistant. And instead of the usual disinterest a realization like this would cause in him, he feels curiosity. He returns to his own paperwork, but even if he knows the newfound silence should please him, it doesn't. He can't put the matter out of his mind for the next twenty minutes, no matter how much he tries to do so and concentrate only on the report he's finishing.

He wonders about Drout background, trying to guess why the circumstances of his birth and his place of origin are such a delicate theme for him. He can't stop thinking about it, probably because it is a thing that, unexpectedly, they have in common. Javert wonders about what were the motives that made Drout Galteaux join the police force… Would they have something in common there too?

No. This is wrong. He shouldn't think like that. He shouldn't care about knowing that sort of things. They are working together and nothing more. That information wouldn't make their collaboration any easier, therefore it is irrelevant.

But then he glances at him once more. He knows he shouldn't notice how the light of the candle makes Drout's soft features look even more harmonious and aesthetically appealing either. But he does.

What does that mean? He has never had such thoughts about other man before; he has never been one to appreciate physical beauty. It seems a rather arbitrary thing, and when he looks at people, there are many other things to judge. How they behave, if there are any traits that may indicate a criminal personality. Their beauty or lack of it is not a factor for him. So why is he thinking about it now?

Before Javert has time to find an answer to this confusing matter, Drout raises his eyes from the form he's filling and catches Javert looking at him. He seems puzzled, but the inspector doesn't look away instantly, like a shy schoolboy would, and instead holds his gaze with a completely neutral expression.

"There's something wrong?" Drout asks, looking like his usual self-confident self once more, the left corner of his mouth twitching subtlety upwards. It makes Javert slightly annoyed. What does he find so funny?

"I was only making sure you were doing your job, officer Galteaux." He says before focusing again in his own paper, like there's nothing more to it and he intends to finish this conversation right there. And thank goodness, Drout return to his writing and doesn't talk again. But even now, when he's not looking at his assistant, Javert knows he still has that little enigmatic smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, this chapter is longer than the others; that's because it's very important! But the next one is going to be even more important, I can't say anything, but it's going to have a really big surprise!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and you're liking the story so far. Please, remember to leave a review telling me what you think! I need some constructive criticism, I'm completely terrified of having the characters too OOC.
> 
> I'm already working on the next chapter, so it shouldn't take me long to update again. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

The night of that same day, a carriage driver finds another mutilated body while waiting for customers, and alerts the police about it. The officers that are in the commissariat when this is reported know they should warn Javert, even if it's quite late, because he's the one in charge of this investigation and the inspector doesn't take it kindly when another policeman intrudes into his work. They have orders to notify him immediately whenever new evidence appears, at any time of the day or the night.

But the night shift doesn't have enough personnel to afford sending a police officer to Javert's residence, so they pay a few francs to a street urchin so he takes a note to the inspector. It's a common practice in this turn; being so few policemen, they all know each other and the atmosphere is not as formal and rigorous as it is in the day sift, when the superiors are looking over everyone.

This child is little dirty thing, dressed with ragged clothes, with dark eyes and hair. When Javert opens his door and discovers him, he looks at him with glacial eyes and asks him sharply about what he wants. The child has being planning to ask the recipient of the note for more money, but when he sees the inspector he's so terrified that he does not dare, and hurries to give it to him, obviously wanting to end this interaction as soon as possible.

Javert reads the note, slightly frowning in his concentration.

"Do you have instructions to take another note somewhere else?" He asks, thinking about his assistant, not bothering to look at the child.

"Yes, monsieur." The voice of the child is frail and hard to hear, because he's too scared to talk in any other way.

"Give it to me." Detecting the authority in the tone of the policeman, the child gives him the note destined to Drout Galteaux without complaining. Like the other one, it's a simple piece of paper, folded in four, with the recipient's name and address written on the outside. It's a good thing because Javert has no idea where Drout lives; he has never asked, and to tell the truth, he didn't care either. They have records of the residences of every agent at the police station, but if what the note says it's true, he can't lose time going there to consult this information. They have to get to the crime scene as soon as possible, before overly-curious citizens ruin the clues and the trail of the murderer is lost forever.

He takes a few sous out of his pocket and tosses them to the child, who takes them with shaky hands before starting to run to get away from this fearful man. Javert just forgets about him, going inside again to take his coat: and that's the only thing that he needs to be ready to go, because he's still dressed with his uniform, impeccable as always. The inspector owns few clothes besides this, and he's used to keep his uniform on until the very same moment when he goes to bed.

Drout's house is close to the commissariat but in the opposite direction of Javert's house, so it is quite far from where he is right now. Javert takes a carriage to get there fast, and after barely twenty minutes he's at his assistant's door. He has been expecting an ordinary house, but apparently Drout's accommodations are far more austere; an old lady, the owner of the building, tells him that a young policeman rents her a single room on the second floor. Everything seems slightly odd, but the inspector has no time to worry about that. He knocks on the door with firm blows, and then he waits for his assistant to open the door, hands clasped behind his back. When several minutes later he's still waiting, he does it again, louder this time, presuming that he must be already asleep. He doesn't feel guilty for waking him up, because the law does not rest, and those who serve it shall always be at its disposal.

"One minute!" Someone says, and it sounds like Drout, but there's something different about his voice. Somehow it's more high-pitched and musical. Javert is confused by this, but it's when the door finally opens when he truly finds himself aghast.

The person who has opened the door is Drout Galteaux and at the same time it isn't him at all. For starters, it's not a man. This is obviously a woman. She has Drout's forest green eyes and she's of his very same height. Her loose hair has the same shade of dark gold, but it is shoulder-length, thick and curly. The woman is wearing a white blouse and brown pants, functional clothes that fit her body and show all her curves; she's got small breasts but an attractive figure, that much is evident. Javert thinks about how his assistant wears a uniform that's slightly too big for him… circumstance that a woman wishing to pass as a man could use to conceal her feminine physical attributes.

Well, more that thinking about it consciously, the image crosses his mind by itself. The inspector is too appalled to form any coherent thought. And the woman at the doorstep looks almost as shocked as him. She has obviously been expecting to find a different person there.

"Monsieur Javert…" She says, in a quiet voice. And she does it in the same exact manner that Drout uses to say his name. It's enough to make the inspector see clearly what's happening. For some reason he can't begin to fathom, this young woman fooled the police force and posed as a man to become his assistant.

She takes some slow steps back, wide-eyed, nearly panicking. Instinctively, like he would do with a criminal that will likely try to run, the policeman enters the room and closes the door behind him. All of him is imbued with an intense, cold fury. He doesn't know why he's so unreasonably angry… and then the reason hits him with a painful clarity: Javert realizes that, in this last week, he has begun to trust him...  _her._ Or at least who he thought she was until now. He has always repeated to himself that Drout Galteaux and him were only working together, but now that he thinks about it that is a pretty important thing. They  _worked_ together, and everything was... right. Yes, Drout was annoying sometimes, but he was hard-working, and they got the job done. The other assistants were far worse, and they left him. Drout didn't. He was always there, at the same time every day, like a clock. That's why he was starting to trust him, slowly, without even noticing it. Unknowingly, he has begun to assume that Drout was going to stay, his previous desire for him to be replaced forgotten long ago.

And now this. This... yes, Javert knows exactly the word for what he's feeling; This  _betrayal_. It has taken so long for Javert to trust another soul again even in the slightest, and now that trust is destroyed. Everything he thinks he knows about his assistant is a lie. No, it's even worse, his assistant does not exist. He was no more than the fabrication of this strange woman he has before him. And he doesn't know who she is, because it's obvious that Drout can't be her real name.

"Who are you?" He asks abruptly, and she can understand what he really means with this question just looking at his wrathful eyes. She knows Javert realizes she is the person that was passing as Drout Galteaux, police officer, and what he really wants to know.

"My name is Delphine." She says, speaking in a soft tone. The panic has already disappeared from her green eyes and now her gaze is serene, clear. She holds Javert stare unapologetically, and doesn't look away in shame like he was frankly expecting. Javert almost finds a dark humor in this: Not even now he can predict her reactions, like it used to happen with Drout. But now he knows that is because his image of him ( _her_ — It is still difficult for him to decide which pronouns he should use) was completely wrong, so he couldn't possibly infer what he could be thinking.

Delphine. So that's her name. He doesn't know how to respond to this, so he just keeps staring at her. And suddenly Javert realizes that he is so focused on what this shocking revelation makes him feel that he hasn't thought about  _why_  she did it. He tries to think of a plausible explanation but he is not able to find one.

"I don't understand. " His rough voice carries only the faintest trace of confusion. He's trying hard not to show any sort of emotion, because he doesn't want her to think he's hurt by her treason. Because he doesn't feel hurt. Not at all. "Explain yourself, girl."

For a moment, she adopts a fierce expression, eyes bright with pride, crossing her arms.

"I'm a woman. I'm no little girl, just like you aren't a boy. And what do you want me to explain? I think everything is pretty clear. If you don't understand it, it's your fault. And I don't owe you any explanation anyway."

Javert is taken aback by her bold and insolent way of speaking to him. Drout was impertinent sometimes, but never like this. She does not show him any respect. And how does she dare to say that she does not owe him anything? It makes Javert's remaining surprise dissolves into anger, and he unconsciously makes his hands into tight fists. Because it's obvious that she does owe him an explanation for all her deceiving actions.

Delphine takes some steps towards the inspector and now Javert can see her even better. How did he ever think she was a man? Her delicate and beautiful features are unmistakably feminine. It is probably her general demeanor what has convinced everyone; Javert has never met any other woman who carries herself in such a confident and steady manner. It would interest him, if the circumstances were different.

"I needed access to the police documents, for once. There's much more to it, but that's the basic story." She says, sensing that Javert really is waiting for her to say something about it. Delphine looks like she thinks this reveals a lot, but for Javert, it doesn't explain anything. Why on earth would a young woman need to attain police documents?

He is going to insist upon this matter when Delphine comes even closer, and a lump on his throat prevents him from talking. She doesn't seem to have the intention of stopping, either, so now they are almost uncomfortably near. The inspector can't remember how much time has passed since the last time he was so physically close to a woman.

"However, I want you to know... It was real for me." She whispers. If they were separated by a normal talking distance, Javert would have had problems to hear it, but being as near as they are he can listen to every single word with an almost painful precision. A few centimeters more, and she would be susurrating it into his ear. "I was sincerely enjoying our cooperation."

Javert can't accept this is not another of her lies. As long as he's concerned, there's nothing sincere about her. But then she moves  _even closer_ , and Javert wonders how it is possible that they are not even touching yet, because it should be impossible to get that close and still be separated, but somehow she manages to do it, erasing all other thoughts from his mind, making him forget everything that's not the warm body in front of him. He's angry at himself for making this happen, for staying there without making the slightest movement, stiff and tense, instead of putting some proper distance between them. But he just can't help it. He can't understand what she's trying to do either, or what is going through the mind of this girl.

After a little while, like she needed to collect the courage to do it, Delphine bends gently forwards and kisses him.

For Javert, this is completely unexpected and irrational and god,  _it feels so good._  He barely realizes he's returning the kiss, overwhelmed by a burning sensation that makes him light-headed and weak on the knees, especially when she throws her arms around his neck. She's not as tall as him, so she almost has to stand on her tiptoes to reach his lips comfortably, and he intuitively puts his hand on the small of her back to steady her.

It's only when they break the kiss to breathe when Javert gets back to reality and actually thinks about what he's doing. He uses his free hand to grab her shoulder and push her away, in an urgent and almost rude manner. What does he think he's doing? He surely has gone mad, he thinks. This is unacceptable. He's an agent of the law and he should be strong enough to resist the advances of this woman. The fact that he has allowed himself to succumb to her charm even for a few minutes sickens him.

For a moment, they stay silent, and the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing.

"Go away, Delphine. Disappear. Leave this city." He says, his voice dark and low, almost cruel in his extreme severity. Until now he has been looking at the floor, but before talking again he raises his gaze to stare at the woman with empty, merciless eyes. "Or I will arrest you."

He's not even sure she has done anything illegal at all, but right now he does not care. It's difficult to decide if this actually makes her a criminal because he doesn't know of a precedent for something like this. He is confident he could charge her with Fraud and Identity Theft, to begin with. But right now what he really wants is that all this has never happened. That's why he's offering her this way out; it's certainly not out of the kindness of his heart, because he knows his heart of stone does not hold such things within itself. When she disappears, he'll be able to pretend all this nonsense was no more than a bad dream.

While he's saying this, Delphine looks at him with her big green eyes full of hurt and surprise, but as soon as he finishes that last sentence she narrows them and takes a deep breath, like she's going to answer back. Finally she doesn't. She just storms out of the building, without a word, leaving Javert alone in the middle of the room. He closes his eyes, covering his face with one hand, and stays like that for longer that he would care to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Drout biggest secret revealed! What do you think about it? Love it? Hate it? (oh please don't hate it I'm honestly scared no one will like it). Anyway if you could leave a review and tell me what's your opinion that'd be great! :D Thank you so much for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Éponine goes to Cosette’s house taking the longest path she can think of, trying to make some time and calm herself. She can’t deliver the letter in such a state of distress, unshed tears glittering in her eyes. There’s also a part of her that wonders what would happen if she simply tossed the letter into the river and told Marius that her beloved didn’t want to hear about him again. Would he accept it, or would he try to contact her by other means?

These thoughts make her feel ashamed of herself. If she really loves Marius, she must do everything she can to make him happy, including facilitating his relationship with another girl. And who is she trying to fool anyway? Even if something kept them apart, Marius never would be interested in her. And Éponine knows she doesn’t deserve him, not like that. She’s barely able to convince herself she’s worthy of his friendship.

She gets to the street where the house is located and watches it for a while, paying attention to the big window and trying to determine if Cosette’s father is home; He can’t find out about this. Fifteen minutes pass without signs of his presence, so she thinks he’s not home.

When she finally arrives at her door, she hesitates for a moment before actually knocking, and this doubt makes her feel even worse about herself. She has already decided what she’s going to do, there’s no use in over thinking it.

“Éponine!” Cosette says, cheerfully, after seeing the downhearted girl at her doorstep. She wears a blue silk dress and a small bow tying her fair hair, but what makes her truly beautiful is her smile, which fills her eyes with light. “I’m so glad to see you. Can I help you with something?”

The brunette girl suddenly feels her mouth extremely dry and is only capable of nodding before she clears her throat with a small cough.

“I have a letter from Monsieur Marius. He couldn’t take it here himself, and asked me to deliver it.” Éponine searches for it in her pockets, but before she can find the small folded paper, Cosette opens the door completely, making way for her to enter the house.

“Oh, please, come in and then you can tell me all about it!”

But Éponine only wants to get rid of the love letter, that burns like a piece of hot charcoal between her fingers, and offers it to her without meeting her eyes.

“There’s no need for that. Here it is.” Her voice is low and full of forced politeness. But if Cosette realizes this, she doesn’t show it, lowering her gaze with humility, and speaking with great kindness.

“Thank you.” And there’s a dash of sadness in her tone while she says this, accepting the letter in her small hands.

Neither of them knows what to say after that, and it creates a little uncomfortable silence. Is obvious that Cosette doesn’t have much practice in maintaining a conversation, and Éponine is trying to find a convincing excuse to finally get out of there.

“I should leave now” She says, turning the corners of her mouth upwards in a half-hearted smile. “I don’t want to trouble you any longer.”

Cosette looks almost surprised by this.

“Don’t be silly, ‘Ponine, this is no trouble at all.”

The girl is startled by this unexpected use of her nickname, and it finally makes her look the blonde girl in the eye again.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is it not okay if I call you that?” Cosette says, sounding genuinely concerned about having caused offence to her.

Éponine has to think about this for a moment. Only friends and family call her like that. But Cosette looks so worried… And for some reason she doesn’t want her to be sad. 

“Yes, it’s ok. You can call me that.”

Cosette is visibly relieved by this. It’s actually quite endearing.

“Good. ‘Ponine… please, stay for a while and keep me company. My father won’t come back from work for several hours, and I’m bored. And lonely. I have some sweet red apples that we could eat while we chat, if you’d like that.”

Éponine still empty stomach roars loudly when the other girl mentions the fruit. She still hasn’t eaten anything, but her feelings had made her forget her hunger until this moment. She thinks about declining her offer (after all, she has some money and she can buy something else in the market if she leaves now, but if she wants to buy something decent that would mean using the money Marius gave to her, and that would be too humiliating) but after a few moments she admits to herself that rejecting free food would be stupid.

“That’d be nice. Thank you, Cosette.”

The blonde girl’s little smile widens, and she steps aside to let Éponine enter the house before closing the door.  She leads her to the same green velvet couch they sat in when Éponine first visited the house, leaving her there while she goes to the kitchen to get the fruit. Soon she returns with a small silver tray that she puts on the table that’s in front of the couch, next to the still unopened letter. On top of the silver tray there’s a plate with two red apples, big, shiny and tempting, and a small knife. Éponine can’t take her eyes away from the fruit while the other girl takes the knife to cut one of them into manageable pieces, because she’s so hungry, and it looks so good. She could never be able to afford such a luxurious item herself. Sometimes she manages to get some fruit, when it starts getting bad and nobody else would buy it, but never something even close to this. Éponine wonders what it will taste like, while she watches Cosette cut it with a hand that trembles slightly, being obviously careful, like she’s not used to handle such sharp tools. But Éponine doesn’t notice that, focused in waiting for the moment when she can start eating. Tough that doesn’t mean she’s going to forget her manners. She may be poor, but she refuses to be rude or do anything that would prove right the people who think that having more money than her means that they are also better than her. When Cosette finally offers her a piece of the fruit, she thanks her and takes one piece of apple with a relaxed movement of her hand, biting it in half and chewing slowly, even if she needs to gather together all her self-control to do so. Cosette acts in a similar fashion, and they eat in silence for a few moments before the blonde girl talks again:

“What do you think?”

“It’s very good.” That is, of course, an enormous understatement. It’s delicious and one of the best things she has ever eaten, but she can’t tell her that, can she? Éponine is pretty sure Cosette doesn’t know how hard her life really is, and she’s not going to explain it to her. It would only serve to make Cosette pity her, and she doesn’t need that. She still has some pride left, she thinks gloomily, looking at her own hands.

“I’m glad you like it, ‘Ponine…” Cosette says, and there’s something in her voice that makes the brunette girl look up to meet her look. Her eyes aren’t bright with happiness as they were before, but calm and searching. “Is there something wrong? Forget me if I’m overstepping, but I can see you are not feeling very cheerful today.”

This comes as a double surprise to Éponine. In the first place, she’s surprised because Cosette sounds like she really cares about how she’s feeling, and she’s not used to that. She wasn’t expecting to find someone who cares about her emotions in here either. And also she’s surprised because she has thought this girl was a lot of things (beautiful, gentle, benevolent, and the list goes on) but only now she realizes that Cosette is smarter than she looks, more sensitive. She’s evidently kind-hearted, but she’s definitely not stupid; there’s intelligence in her soft, compassionate gaze. And Éponine suddenly knows she just can’t lie to her about this, and not only because Cosette would probably perceive she’s lying. She’s been holding it inside herself for too much time and she needs to share it with someone, or the weight of her feelings is going to kill her.  

“I… actually I feel unhappy. I have for a very long time. I’m sad most of the time…” Éponine looks aside and takes a deep breath, collecting courage to tell the truth. “…except when I’m with him, with Marius. And now…” She looks at her again hoping that the expression of her eyes explains everything else because she knows she can’t find the words to phrase it herself.

And it looks like it is enough, and Cosette doesn’t need anything else to understand what she’s trying to tell her. For a moment she looks almost shocked, but soon her features soften when she fully comprehends it.

“I understand now. Do you love him?” Cosette asks, tentatively, aware of how a delicate subject this is, but still determined on having this conversation.

Éponine, on the other hand, does not look like she’s too comfortable with it. She can’t keep her eyes on Cosette’s for more than a few seconds, putting them all over the room. She has never recognized to another human being that she’s in love with Marius, and even if she knows without a single doubt she loves him fiercely somehow she still can’t simply say that. 

“I guess you could say that.” It’s what finally comes out of her mouth, in a quiet voice, but again Cosette understands. “But it doesn’t matter anymore, because he loves you, not me.”

“That’s ridiculous. He doesn’t know me! A month ago he didn’t even know I existed. Can people really fall in love so fast?”

“Don’t you think so? Don’t you love him?”

 Now it’s Cosette’s turn to look a little nervous and hesitant. Her hand plays clumsily with one of the little blue ribbons that decorate her dress, while she thinks about it briefly.

“I don’t know. He’s an amiable young man, Éponine, and very handsome, but I know nothing about him and… I’m sure he’s very nice, but… I don’t know. I’m not sure about my feelings, and I have no experience with this kind of matters. Everything is moving too fast for me.” Cosette gives her a weak, unsure and timid smile, like it’s something embarrassing to her, or like she’s sorry that she can’t give Éponine the answer she’s expecting to get, not knowing what that could be.

Éponine finds this very confusing. It’s hard for her to understand how someone could not love Marius like she does. It’s almost unfathomable for her. Not knowing what to say, she doesn’t say a word, only nods tentatively.

“I hope this doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, ‘Ponine.” Cosette says, still looking a little nervous.

“If you really want that…” Éponine doesn’t understand why she would want that, but she’s not against the idea. Actually, when she takes a moment to think about it, she surprises herself thinking it could be pretty nice to have her as a friend.

“Yes, it’d be lovely!” It’s a good thing that Cosette has her cheerful tone back, because it helps relax the air between them. Suddenly, she seems to have an idea, and rapidly takes Marius letter. “Now that we’re friends, we shouldn’t have secrets… We’ll read this together, alright?”

She starts opening it before Éponine has a chance to protest, and she really can’t say she’s not curious about its contents. She still feels a little like an intruder, but it can’t be a wrong thing to do if she has Cosette permission to listen, can it?

“Dearest Cosette” The blonde girl starts reading “My sadness for the brevity of our encounter knows no bounds. The possibility of you leaving with an untrue idea about my personpains me greatly. I realize now I was too enthusiastic and didn’t behave like a proper gentleman would; I can only beg you for another chance to win your heart.” She stops for a moment when her eyes find the next line, her voice trembling slightly when she continues “I know I can’t go back to your house, for your father could find out about us, so I implore you to meet me tonight at the Luxembourg Gardens.” She stops again, but this time it’s because the letter finishes there.

Cosette just keeps staring at the letter with a cryptic expression, holding it a little too tightly between her long fingers. Éponine, who was already expecting something similar and can’t quite understand her reaction, soon gets tired of waiting for her to express her thoughts and tries to make her talk:

“Well, what are you going to do?”

This seems to succeed in making the other girl react, and she leaves the letter on the table while looking at her new friend “Oh, Éponine, I can’t!”

“Don’t you want to see him again?”

“It’s not that… but… I don’t dare to venture the night alone. There’s a good walk from here to the Gardens and I’m afraid. I can’t do it.”

Éponine is used to walk the streets at night, to the darkness, so she can’t say she understands. Of course, if there’s ever been a creature of the light, that’s Cosette. It shouldn’t surprise her.

“It’s not that bad…”

“It is for me” Cosette looks like she could start crying at any moment. “I’m not as brave as you, ‘Ponine.”

“I’m not… I’m not brave.” She says, and she’s convinced of it. If she was brave she would tell Marius about her true feelings instead of hiding them from him like the coward idiot she is. But it’s been really long since the last time anyone has said anything so nice about her, and Éponine feels a sudden urge to help her “Maybe I could walk there with you? And I’m sure Marius could bring you back here later.”

Cosette’s eyes widen, filled with gratefulness.

“Would you really do that for me? Oh, you are too good. Thank you so much” For a moment Éponine thinks Cosette is going to hug her, but she seems to decide against it in the last second, too timid to touch her. Instead she smiles at her, thankful.

Éponine tries to smile back at her. She’s still feeling pretty bad, but it’s easier than she expected; Cosette’s happiness it’s contagious.

“Sure. That's what friends are for, right?”

 

* * *

 Grantaire is alone at le café Musain once again when Éponine enters the room. She seems surprised to find it so empty, when usually in the afternoon the place is full of students and other revolutionaries. After looking around, she walks towards Grantaire and takes a chair from other table to sit down with him.

“Hey there, ‘Ponine.” He greets her, raising his glass. There’s an almost empty bottle of wine on the table and it’s obvious that he has been drinking it alone.

“Hi, ‘Taire. How are you feeling today?”

“Fantastic. Enjolras hates me. I’m going to drink until I forget it. There’s nothing new.” Grantaire tells her, with a bitter smile.

The girl sighs and pushes her hair out of her face with one hand, while resting her other arm at the table. “I could use a drink right now…”

The dark-haired man gives her a long look before nodding and standing up, only to come back a few moments later with a glass and another bottle of wine.

“That one is mine.” He explains. “But you can start with this one. It’s actually pretty decent, as far as this type of wine goes.”

He opens it, and pours her some of the dark red liquid in the glass until it is half full.

“There we go.” Grantaire sits again. “Tell me, what happened this time? What did Marius do today? I swear to god, that boy is a complete idiot. I’ll never understand…”

“I don’t understand your thing with Enjolras” Éponine says, cheeks blushed, interrupting him before he has the change to say it. Until today, Grantaire has been the only one who knew about his feelings for Marius, he has known for a while, but she still doesn’t like to hear it out loud. She had to told him when he caught her looking at Marius and recognized in her eyes the same look he gives to Enjolras (now Éponine is much, much more careful, and she’s pretty sure no one else could ever find out about it), and they have been friends since then. Well, sort of. They drink together sometimes and talk about their unrequited love, but they don’t do much more. Still, it’s nice for both of them having someone who understands. “but I don’t question it, do I?”

“Everyone understands my thing with Enjolras” He responds, ignoring her question, raising the glass to his lips and taking a long gulp from it. “because he’s the most wonderful being on Earth. Oh, you’re probably the only one who doesn’t think so, because you only have eyes for your Marius, don’t you?”

“He’s not mine” Éponine says under her breath before taking a small sip of her drink, before finishing it with a single swallow. Grantaire doesn’t say a word, and tries to refill her glass, but she puts a hand over it and shakes her head. “No, I don’t want more. I can’t get drunk today; I have… something to do tonight.”

Grantaire frowns.

“And that something has anything to do with your father? I’ve already told you, Éponine, his petty schemes are going to take you to prison on day.

“It’s not that at all!” She protests “You know I’m trying to keep a distance from my parents. But really, your concern it’s touching…” she smiles subtly, teasing him.

“Oh, shut up.” He rolls his eyes and finishes his drink, refilling it until it almost overflows.

“Anyway, where’s everyone?”

“They are out giving speeches to the people to see if they can trick them into supporting the revolution, or something like that.” Grantaire shrugs. “And I’m still here because after the… dominoes fiasco Enjolras doesn’t trust me with that anymore. As I said before, he hates me.”

Éponine sits back, a little more relaxed. At least when Marius asks her for help, she always does her best to succeed… but of course, she’s unable to hold that one event against Grantaire. That’s just the way he is, and anyone less strict than Enjolras would understand that. He’s so incredibly serious about everything.

“He does not hate you.”

“He loathes me.” Grantaire takes a sip of wine once more.

“You are so dramatic sometimes, ‘Taire…”

“I can’t believe _you_ are accusing _me_ of being dramatic about these matters.”

 They keep arguing and talking until the sun starts to set, Grantaire getting more and more drunk as time passes. When the students start to return, Éponine leaves the place to go back to Cosette’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took me so long to update! But I've been on a trip and then I didn't have the inspiration to finish the chapter for a few days. I promise the next one will come very soon! And we'll be back with Javert and Delphine! 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thank you so much for reading this! Now if you could leave a review, that would make me really happy.
> 
> This fic is probably going to be long (if someone reads it, that is) because I have lots of ideas! Also I know it says it's a crossover, but the characters from Supernatural won't appear, I'm only using some of the themes like the monsters and such.
> 
> English is not my first language and this is my first time writing an story completely in English, so I'd be really thankful if you could point out any errors I make. I want to improve. And I'm rating it mature only to be safe, because there's probably going to be adult stuff along the way. Thanks again! 
> 
> (I'm also publishing this story on Fanfiction.net, I only say it so no one thinks this is plagiarism :P)


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